


Aliyah

by madame_alexandra



Category: NCIS
Genre: Aaliyah - Freeform, Catharsis, F/M, Family, Friendship, Homecoming, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-04-22
Packaged: 2018-06-03 21:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6626824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madame_alexandra/pseuds/madame_alexandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ziva returns home, permanently. Originally published after Ziva's departure/after the Sergei Mishnev arc. Part of a trilogy of "Ziva-Leaving" (the first two are Shalom and Toda).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aliyah

**Author's Note:**

> originally set with Ziva returning circa the season 13 finale. which i'm now thinking might turn out to be scarily prophetic.

 

_**Aliyah** _

 

 

Zoe Keates was not a crier; she prided herself on action rather than tears – but this was a hard thing to bear with dry eyes. She did it with grace; she held a postcard delicately in her hands, and she listened.

“I don’t want to lead you on,” he said honestly.

Locks of dark hair fell over her eyes as she read the neat, curving script on the card – he’d let her read it; laid it in the open – but she’d sensed his distance for a weeks now, and it was unique to the usual distance that was always there.

“Are you sure about this?” Zoe asked, lifting her head up bravely. She held up the postcard, showing him the picture of a balmy, gorgeous California beach. “I think we have a good thing, Tony,” she said. “You haven’t seen her in years – you don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He nodded.

DiNozzo swallowed hard, and took the postcard from her, flipping it over.

_I am almost home. I’ll be staying with Gibbs. – Z._

He didn’t know what it meant, really; but he knew it meant something to him – and it seemed to throw up walls that he couldn’t get around, that he couldn’t see Zoe through. He’d tried to choose the best option –

“I know,” he said frankly. “I’m wastin’ your time, Zoe.”

“I don’t believe that’s what we’ve been doing.”

“I like you,” Tony told her. He paused, trying to put it into words. “It’s been easy not to think about her, when she’s been somewhere else.”

Zoe leaned back, folding her arms tightly. She hugged herself almost, watching him – she knew there had always been that part of him she couldn’t reach, and she’d almost wondered if this might happen – in a way, she’d been prepared from the start.

“I can’t live with _what if_ , this time,” DiNozzo said finally.

He met Zoe’s eyes, and he felt a twinge of guilt – maybe he shouldn’t have been trying to move on at all. He did like Zoe; he even loved her, but there were different kinds of love, and Zoe wasn’t skin deep – she didn’t embed herself into the sinew and cell of his soul.

She leaned forward, and rested her elbows on the table.

“If _what if_ doesn’t work out,” she said succinctly, “I won’t be around for a second time.”

DiNozzo nodded. He didn’t expect her to wait to be a second choice. He reached his hand across the table, and held it open.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Zoe,” he said seriously. He cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “I’d rather do it now, before I make too many mistakes – “

Before he was Gibbs, and he married the wrong woman, before he was Gibbs, and he resented the beautiful woman Zoe was just because her name wasn’t _Ziva_. He grit his teeth.

“She’s the woman I’ve been waiting my whole life for.”

Zoe Keates nodded. Her eyes fell on his hand, and she reached forward and took it, squeezing his fingers. It stung – the touch of his skin, the way he looked when he talked about her – and it stung to accept this with a head held high, but more than she wanted Tony, she didn’t want to be his second choice.

“Good luck,” she wished him hoarsely.

She got up, and he stood to walk her out, taking her shoulder a moment – he gave her a goodbye kiss, more chaste than usual, and very final, and she hid her face before she left. He watched her leave, slumped anxiously in the doorway of his apartment, and then he stared at the postcard for what seemed like hours –

He’d received it two weeks ago; Gibbs said she’d come back six days ago – and McGee had gone to dinner with her four days ago. He hadn’t seen her; he’d had to take deep breaths first – he’d had to end things with Zoe. It was a risk, he knew – what if she had found someone; what if she was married? But something told him she wasn’t – and he couldn’t face her, and risk hurting Zoe if his actions went further than he expected.

He folded the postcard, and slipped it into his pocket, and he steeled himself –

 

* * *

 

\--and an hour later, he was letting himself into Gibbs’ house, stomping summer mud off of his shoes next to the stairs.

 Gibbs came up from the basement, wiping his hands.

“’Bout time,” he grunted.

DiNozzo smiled at him hesitantly, hands in his pockets.

“Is she here?”

Gibbs jerked his head towards the stairs.

“She’s in Kelly’s old room,” he muttered.

DiNozzo hesitated, and Gibbs pointed, indicating he was welcome to go up and see her – Tony started past him, and Gibbs grabbed his shoulder, giving him a sharp look.

“This isn’t a honeymoon suite,” he growled pointedly. “You get any ideas, you take her back to your place.”

DiNozzo snorted, a little surprised at the advice – he nodded respectfully, and found his way up the stairs. It was an unfamiliar walk – his knowledge of Gibbs’ house stopped at the basement and the living room – but it was easy to find which room he meant when he spoke of his daughter’s old one. The door was open, and just inside he could see dusty pink and white-checkered wallpaper. It didn’t surprise him that Gibbs had never painted over it or stripped it; the Boss wasn’t one for change.

Tony faltered suddenly – _he hadn’t seen her in years._ He hadn’t spoken to her, he hadn’t even heard a whisper – he almost bolted, almost turned back. He had gotten comfortable, vaguely wondering where she was, and now she was back, she was –

“I can hear you thinking out there.”

\--she was still one step ahead of him, always.

He took a deep breath, and stepped into the little girl’s room.

It was barren; an eerie wasteland – DiNozzo had never seen the skeleton of Gibbs’ past laid so naked. There were marks on the walls; a child’s handprint, pencil notes of height – there was a box full of stuffed animals in the corner, and just a small twin bed with a white, delicate frame. He let out a harsh breath, and there was a soft noise from a window seat in the corner.

“I’ve been helping him clean it out.”

He looked over, and she was sitting there – hair long, curly, dark; cascading over her shoulders like something unfathomably earthen and primal. There was a doll in her lap, a doll with red hair and freckles.

Tony leaned against the doorway, and cleared his throat heavily.

“Why?”

She shrugged.

“He has been living with a tomb in this house,” she said softly. “It is the final step of acceptance.”

DiNozzo nodded, and she turned towards him, swinging her legs off of the window seat. She faced him, setting the doll aside, and met his eyes intently – confidently.

“Tony,” she greeted.

His lips turned up 

“Hey, Ziva,” he greeted softly, his voice stuck somewhere in his throat 

She beamed at him; she arched a dark eyebrow.

“Do we run to each other?” she quipped wryly. “Is there supposed to be music?”

“Sounds kind of dramatic,” DiNozzo retorted, in the same tone.

He remembered kissing her before she left; hoping with every fiber of her being that it would make her stay, make her feel something. He swallowed hard, and come into the room. He looked everywhere but at her for a moment, and then he sat down on the edge of Kelly’s bed, tense, nervous.

“I got your postcard,” he said, striking up conversation.

“I hoped you had.”

“McGee told me you looked nice. 

Ziva laughed.

“McGee is always the gentleman.”

“Did you meet Delilah?”

Ziva nodded; McGee had brought his fiancée along to their dinner, and Ziva had liked her very much.

“Why’re you stayin’ with Gibbs?” Tony asked, desperate to keep the words flowing.

She moved her shoulders.

“I am still looking for a place to live,” she said quietly. “This feels like home, for the moment. 

DiNozzo nodded.

“Keep an eye on him, good idea,” he said suavely. “He’s gettin’ old – you been gone awhile – might be dementia,” his joking trailed off.

“I have missed that,” Ziva remarked sincerely. “Your humor.”

Tony smiled, gritting his teeth together. He felt so timid, so unexpectedly anxious. He felt like this was a moment that was going to make or break every single thing he’d been through -- she’d been through – in the past, and he wanted it to end the right way.

“I missed you, Ziva,” he blurted honestly.

He cringed, and she laughed.

“You’re different,” she noted, her eyes bright.

“Nah,” he said hoarsely. “Just older.”

She shrugged a little; he probably didn’t see the subtle differences as much as she did – he seemed so wise, so comfortable in his skin – if it made sense, he seemed like he was being the most Tony he could be, the most honest Tony he’d ever been.

She licked her lips.

“I wanted to give you warning,” she said. “That is why I sent the postcard – I wanted you to have time to think.”

“Appreciate it,” he said sincerely.

“I wanted you to come to me, when you were ready,” she went on. “I did not want to … disrupt, the life you have.”

“You know about Zoe,” DiNozzo said – it was half a question, but he also figured Gibbs had told her; and he was more than grateful to her for reaching out, for not just showing up and setting off a bomb in his life.

Ziva nodded.

“Does she make you happy?” she asked earnestly. There was no jealousy, no malice in her voice or her expression, just concern.

“Yeah,” DiNozzo said, shrugging. “Zoe’s a peach,” he drawled.

He fell silent, and then leaned forward, knees on his elbows 

“She’s not you.”

Ziva made a small noise of uncertainty, like she was sucking in her breath.

“I broke it off with her, this morning.”

“Tony,” she said in a rush, her breath forced through her lips.

She felt pinched, scared, stricken – she didn’t know what she’d wanted, what she’d expected, but such a grandiose gesture – so sudden – it felt –

He was shaking his head, lifting his hand to placate her.

“Look, Ziva,” he started. “I’m not – I didn’t do it,” he paused, frustrated. He looked up and met her eyes. “I don’t expect anything from you,” he said, hoping she understood. “I didn’t just break up with Zoe because I _assumed_ you wanted me. Don’t feel like … you need to make it worth my while and do something for me.”

He swallowed, and shrugged his shoulders heavily.

“I like Zoe,” he repeated. “But she’s not you. And she … I couldn’t pull a Gibbs on her. And even if nothing happens between us, if you’ve got someone else…I can’t be figuring that out while and try to half-ass something for Zoe, ‘cause she deserves a whole person,” he licked his lips, and cringed a little. “I sound like an idiot.”

Ziva shook her head; she took his meaning to heart – she understood. He wasn’t demanding she drop everything and be his – he was clearing the way for them to have a chance; he was trying to avoid doing to Zoe what he did to Jeanne Benoit, when he got in to deep and then damaged someone beyond repair.

“There’s no one else.”

Tony blinked at her, hung on her words. He moved his lips soundlessly.

“No one?” he asked.

She shook her head slowly, emphatically.

“It’s been so long,” he began skeptically.

“I did not live like a nun,” she said quickly. “I did not refuse romance. But I did not find anything that I wanted more than to return here,” she licked her lips, “and from the way you speak about Zoe – I think you understand.”

He stared at her, and then he laughed. He bowed his head a moment, laughing, feeling like none of it made sense – it was all so surreal. They weren’t anything; they weren’t even –

“We never dated,” he said finally, snorting. “We never touched each other – well,” he arched his eyebrow, thinking of under cover operations in years gone by.

She smirked at him, and she leaned forward, resting her chin on her knuckles. She felt that odd sense of wonder, too – because it was a strange relationship to explain – one in which she could feel like this man was all she had ever wanted, or hoped for, and yet – they had always only called each other _team mate_ , or _friend_.

He ran a hand through his hair, and he looked up.

“What do we do now?” he asked gruffly. He wracked his brain, looked for things to say - -ways to start. “You can live with me,” he offered wildly.

Ziva’s brows went up, and felt like covering his face. He gave her a sheepish look, and spread out his hands – she needed a place to stay; she’d stayed at his place before 

“I think we should start at the beginning,” she said quietly.

He tilted is head at her. He blinked, and shook his head.

“Start over?”

“You could put it that way.”

“Ziva,” he said tensely, shaking his head again. He rested his palm on his knee. “We’ve got too much history,” he muttered. “We can’t ignore it. Can’t just … start over – re-introduce ourselves.”

“No,” she agreed simply. “I do not want that, Tony. Everything that has happened between us … is important to me.”

He nodded – glad she understood. It was important to him, too – and he couldn’t live in a world where she wanted to ignore the problems they’d had an overcome, ignore everything that had convinced him she was absolutely the woman he wanted to be with. She stood up, pushing her hair back. She wrapped her arms around herself and ran her fingers up and down her sides, licking her lips.

“We _do_ have history,” she repeated honestly. “We also have several years – of separate lives,” she pointed out. “These past hears – since Bodnar, since Parsa, since – Sergei Mishnev,” she said quietly. “I have lived a different life; you have had new experiences – we know each other,” she conceded. “But – “

“We have to _get_ to know each other again,” he said abruptly, surprising her with the interruption -- and how he’d read her mind.

“Yes,” she agreed quietly, her eyes on his intently. “Yes, that is what I am saying.”

She took a deep breath, moving closer to him – until she stood in front of him, her knees almost touching his.

“I am not Officer David anymore – I am not _Agent_ David anymore.”

He nodded.

“Gibbs doesn’t want you back?”

“I do not want to come back,” she said with a shrug. “You know that. You were with me in Israel.”

“What do you want to do?” Tony asked.

Ziva sighed, but she didn’t sound burden. Her eyes were bright, hesitant -- as if she was worried what he might think.

“I want a college degree,” she confessed.

DiNozzo grinned at her, and shrugged. It sounded like a good idea to him.

“Then? 

“And then…” she trailed off. “I do not know.”

He shrugged again – he’d been there. She’d find something that she’d always wanted; something that the woman she’d rediscovered was dying to do.

“So,” he said lightly. “We won’t ever be co-workers again.”

She nodded, and she reached up to push her hair back.

“Do you remember the summer we had – the summer we quit, before Parsa came after us?”

He nodded.

“You asked me if we should try to deal with – this – “ she mimicked his voice, gestured between them, “before we went back.”

DiNozzo nodded again – but before they could act on it, try to work their relationship out, all hell had broken loose, and then she was leaving, and he was wondering if it had ever happened at all 

“That is what I want to do.”

He studied her – he thought he understood. It was complicated, because there was so much history – he had gone to Africa and back for her, he had almost irreparably damaged their relationship over Michael Rivkin – she had relied on him to have her back after her father’s death – there was an intimacy to their relationship that made half of him think they should skip the formalities and get married or start sleeping together – but then there was the half of him that understood what she was saying: that they needed to progress like a normal relationship would.

“What are the rules?” Tony asked hoarsely 

Ziva sighed, and looked up 

“We can’t ignore our past. We can’t tell ourselves it won’t come up,” she paused. “I still have the occasional nightmare. I think we should – just deal with each subject as it comes up. If the conversation leads to Somalia then…” she trailed off.

She didn’t want to promise she’d talk about Somalia, or even her time at Mossad, but she knew she would; if she was going to spend her life with him, if they worked out, she was going to let him know all of her.

 He cleared his throat.

“If my mom comes up, or issues with Dad,” he started, showing he understood.

They’d have to just handle it like other people did – like people who were getting to know all of each other, and starting something.

“You want to date,” DiNozzo said – a hint of amusement to his voice.

She looked at him.

“I want to start a life,” she said softly – and she was agreeing with him, she wanted to start it like some teenager might try her first relationship, or like any woman her age would meet someone and see where it went.

“Even now,” she said hoarsely. “We might end up finding out – that it does not work; that it was never meant to be.”

“But we’re gonna do it the old fashioned way,” DiNozzo said assertively. “You think we can do the whole – adult relationship thing?”

She swallowed hard.

“I think we are very different people than we used to be,” she said.

Her eyes glittered, and he reached out for her, his hands resting on her. He couldn’t vocalize how good it felt to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin under his hands – this woman in his arms again, tangible, optimistic; _finally_. She touched his jaw and tilted his head up, and pressed her lips to his, wrapping her arms around his neck in a gentle, firm grasp, his lips moving over his with languid passion – no rush, not desperation – so promising, and so unlike the hurried, panicked last kiss they’d shared.

She broke away, and lifted her shoulders.

“This is my _aliyah_ ,” she told him confidently.

This mean more than her return to Israel so many years ago – that had only led her to betrayal, to Somalia; this was permanent, her final resting place. It wasn’t so much Tony as it was everyone – Gibbs, McGee, Abby, Leon – the people who loved her, who didn’t use her but who wanted what was best for her. She had left to be happy in her own skin, to be herself; she came back to be home – and she was only healthy enough to try with Tony because she was perfectly capable, if it didn’t work out, _of being happy with herself._

That was how she knew she could start a relationship; because she fit her skin – she knew her soul.

“There’s only one thing left to do, then,” DiNozzo said huskily.

He rested his hands on her hips. She arched eyebrow at him in anticipation.

“Miss David,” he said gallantly. “Would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?”

She smiled at him, her eyes lighting up brilliantly – and he saw the change in her, the weightlessness – the peace.

She nodded her head, and he stood up to hug her tightly – welcoming her home.

**Author's Note:**

> originally published under the same name in 2015.


End file.
